


all i'm really asking for

by zcinmalik



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Light Angst, Matchmaker Harry, Matchmaking, Minor Niall Horan/Ed Sheeran, Multi, News Media, Pining, Player Harry, Sexual Tension, Sweet Liam, TV News, Television, Threesome - M/M/M, Uptight Zayn, Workplace Relationship, YouTuber Harry, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5407607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zcinmalik/pseuds/zcinmalik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And <i>that’s</i> the last thing,” Caroline says, rubbing her face in her hands. </p><p>“What the hell else could there possibly be?” Zayn feels a sinking feeling in his stomach. </p><p>“The segment’s going to be on sex and relationships. Because the guy they’re bringing in is Harry Styles.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	all i'm really asking for

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fcknziam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fcknziam/gifts).



> Written for the [1D Film Ficathon](http://filmathonexchange.tumblr.com/). Thanks so much to [Eva](http://mahealaheys.tumblr.com/) for the wonderful beta! Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Prompt: _The Ugly Truth_ (2009) "Zayn is sort of a prude producer for a local stations, Harry is a self proclaimed sex god with no qualms of discussing his sometimes problematic views on sex and relationships on his youtube channel/podcast/syndicated show. When Harry gets hired on for regular segments at Zayn's show, Harry injects himself into Zayn's personal life, as he tries to help him get the guy of his dreams, sports anchor Liam. Theres lots of pining and third-wheeling, and slight heartbreak. But with a Happy ending. The writer can really have as much fun with this as they want! This is a really fun movie with lots of cute things and its easy to have fun with it and make it work with the ships and what not. Feel free to add more characters too, be it original or someone related to the boys. I do ask for no Larry, Little Mix, or 5SOS." 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, Fcknziam! 
> 
> The events presented here are fictional. Please don't share this with any of the real people mentioned or referenced. Thanks!
> 
> Title from Beyoncé's "Mine."

“For god’s sake, turn that shit off,” Zayn says. He drops a stack of ratings on Louis’ desk and ignores his pout.

“The man has some good points,” Louis says, closing out of his browser and cutting off the sound of Harry Styles’ smug, slow rambling. Louis scrambles up to follow Zayn out of his office and into the hallway.

“Yeah, what is it today? Five reasons why cheating isn’t all that bad after all?” Zayn glances at Louis’ face, which is already wincing in embarrassment. He stops in his tracks, rounding on Louis with disbelief. “You are not serious.”

“It’s not justifying cheating!” Louis says. Zayn rolls his eyes, dodges Nick, who’s carrying a large armchair for the day’s segment, and continues down the hallway. “He’s just saying that monogamy is—”

“Honestly, I _don’t_ give a shit, Lou,” Zayn says, tipping another copy of the ratings report into Niall’s arms as they pass. “Just don’t subject me to it at work.”

“15 million subscribers he has, and all he does is look pretty and talk about sex,” Louis says, his voice awed.

Zayn opens his mouth to retort, but then pauses. He comes to a halt outside of the control room and turns back around to Louis.

“15 _million_?”

Louis’ eyebrows are raised and he nods impressively.

Zayn shakes his head, tugging his briefcase up under his arm so he can key open the door. “Well that’s just proof that people are idiots and they’ll believe anything, isn’t it?”

“Zayn, I’m telling you,” Louis insists, following him doggedly inside. “We _need_ someone like that. These ratings are appalling. We need—”

Zayn dumps his shit onto the nearest chair. “We have the most charismatic man in the world on news, the most beautiful man in the world on sports, and Ed fucking Sheeran on weather. We don’t need someone like _Harry Styles_ , we just need people to realize what we have and tune in to our fucking show. Preferably women in the 18 to 35 demographic.”

A voice that definitely does not belong to Louis replies.

“I’m, erm… not at all the most beautiful man in the world.”

Zayn, who had begun busying himself with the switchboards, promptly jumps near out of his skin and accidentally sets off at least seven switches incorrectly. He turns on his heel, ignoring the machinery and Louis’ all-too-knowing smirk.

“Liam! What—what are you doing in here?”

Liam aims his big, concerned, incredibly brown eyes at Zayn and takes a few steps forward. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you. Can I help with—?”

He gestures at the switchboard and Zayn waves him off quickly, perhaps a little desperately.

“No, no, it’s fine.”

“Oh. Okay then,” Liam says, dropping his outstretched arm to his side. Zayn tries to tell himself not to notice their now-close proximity. Or how pink Liam’s lips are. Or—

“I just came in because Caroline was looking for you,” Liam says. He smiles and adds, “Told her that I bet you’d be in here. You’re always so on top of things, getting everything set up.”

Before Zayn can reply, Louis is cutting in.

“That’s our Zayn, isn’t it?” he says in a faux sentimental voice.

Zayn musters a glare and fidgets with his tie, despite the fact that it’s done perfectly. He turns back to Liam once he feels the heat has subsided a bit from his face, and returns Liam’s beaming grin with a weak smile.

“Thanks, Li. I’ll get to her office.”

Liam is off to makeup a moment later and Zayn sighs. Louis opens his mouth to speak but Zayn cuts him off.

“Oh, just shut up and fix the board.”

* * *

 

Caroline is standing at her desk, cradling her phone to her ear with one hand and using the other to shift papers around in a nervous movement that Zayn has come to associate with bad news. He knocks softly on the “Ms. Watson” that’s painted on her open door, and she glances up at him immediately. Dropping a manila folder, she frees her hand up to wave him inside.

“I’m well aware of it… Well, fine then… No. This is settled already… Yes, fine. I have to speak with my producer… Yes, and you too.”

She hangs the phone up and drops it on top of the nearest stack of reports.

“Everything alright?” Zayn asks. He lowers himself into a chair across from Caroline once she nods at it.

“Honestly, no. It’s a disaster,” she says, and takes a seat in her chair wearily. “You saw the ratings?”

Zayn nods.

“Yeah, well, the network has been in touch. They’re not giving us any more chances to fix it on our own.”   
  
“But—” Zayn begins protesting. Caroline shakes her head.

“Zayn, I’ve tried. I’ve tried everything I could. At this point maybe we could use the help.”

“It’s not _help_ ,” Zayn says quickly. “They don’t even believe in making it about journalism, all they want is to take over and turn the show into something—”

“Something that people actually watch,” Caroline says, her gentle tone belying the honest words. “Zayn, I know how much creative control means to you. It’s important to me too. But we have to make some sacrifices if we want to stay on air.”

Zayn crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. A long moment of silence falls in the room, as the muffled sounds of people setting the show up trickle in from the set down the hallway.

“Fine,” Zayn says. “Fine then. What do they want?”

Caroline sighs. “There’s this YouTube celebrity. Huge deal online. They’re bringing him in to do a segment each show.”

Zayn considers it. It could be much worse, actually. A nice cooking section during the lag time, maybe someone to do local interest stories with a dramatic flare.

“I guess that’s not so bad then,” he concedes. “I can fit him in during—”

“That’s the thing,” Caroline says. “They’ll let you control the rest of the show, run it like you always do. But in exchange they want to give him the prime slot.”

“What, like… top of the hour? Push the news back?” Zayn asks incredulously.

“We’re a local program, Zayn, it’s not—”

“God fucking—” Zayn says. “I can’t believe them. I _knew_ this would happen.” He begins tugging angrily at his cufflinks, having little else on which to take out his frustrations.

Caroline gives him a pitying look. He sighs. He knows that she’s as helpless to the whims of the network as he is.

“Fine,” he finally snaps. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’ll give in to their ridiculous demands as long as he has control over everything that matters. Even if everything that matters gets pushed back as a result. “He can have his prime time, use it to talk about celebrities or walk us through a video game or whatever—”

“And _that’s_ the last thing,” Caroline says, rubbing her face in her hands.

“What the hell else could there possibly be?” Zayn feels a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“The segment’s going to be on sex and relationships. Because the guy they’re bringing in is Harry Styles.”

* * *

 

“I’m quitting,” Zayn announces, his face perfectly serious as he looks out over the anchors, assistants, and technicians. “Just wanted to let you all know.”

“He’s not quitting,” Louis says exasperatedly. “Everything’s fine. Get to your places and let’s get started.”

Everyone looks around at each other uncertainly.

“Oi!” Louis barks after a moment. “Am I or am I not the co-producer of this show?”

Everyone jumps a bit simultaneously and quickly begins moving about. Zayn turns to where Louis is putting in his headset.

“I’m not joking,” he says. “I’m really quitting.” A thought suddenly hits Zayn, and it feels like the most horrifying revelation he’s ever had. “And you _knew_ about this, didn’t you? That’s why you were going on about him this morning! What the fuck, Louis!”

Louis rolls his eyes. Zayn finds himself following Louis from the set back into the control room. They round the corner of the hallway and file past the main meeting room.

“Yes, fine. I knew about it. I overheard Caroline arguing about it with the execs on the phone last night. Thought you could do with some warming up to the idea. My mistake for forgetting I was dealing with the ice prince. And you’re not quitting, you love this job too much.”

“I love this job when it has any semblance of professional meaning to it,” Zayn argues. “As if you’re going to be proud to say that you work here when we start the top of the hour every day with some sophomoric asshole rattling off his conquests like he’s at a fucking frat party.”

“Oh, darling,” a disturbingly familiar voice calls from the room Zayn just passed. He freezes in his steps. “I never kiss and tell. You’d’ve known that if you watched my channel. But I suppose research standards are slipping in journalism these days.”

Zayn turns on his heel. He can see Louis following his lead from the corner of his eye. Before him is a stern-looking Caroline and a smug-looking Harry Styles.

“Your hair is ridiculous,” Zayn spits before he can think of a better insult. “And if you think you can bait me by taking a jab at my professionalism then you’re even more of an idiot than your Nike-sponsored trash YouTube channel makes you seem.”

“ _Zayn_!” Caroline chides, clearly horrified.

Harry, however, looks oddly delighted.

“Yes… glad to see you’re far above being baited,” he says, grinning. His voice is slow and sultry and horrible. “I can tell I’ll be having fun with you… ice prince, was it?”

Zayn furiously opens his mouth to retort, but Caroline cuts in.

“Harry, these are your producers, Zayn and Louis. I expect that they’ll be taking good care of you.” She pointedly looks at Zayn during that last sentence, then steers Harry down the hallway and toward the set. “You can get a sense of what our old show format looks like before we get you started properly next week.”

Zayn whirls around and barely refrains from punching the wall. Louis looks at him with some unhelpful combination of concern and amusement.

“All right then?” he asks.

Zayn ignores him and storms past to the control room.

“If it helps, I was rather struck by his hair too,” Louis says.

* * *

 

“So it should be a lovely weekend ahead of us!” Ed concludes. “Any plans for it, Niall?”

“Split screen,” Zayn says. A technician quickly follows through, displaying a medium shot of Ed wearing a bright smile on the right and another of Niall blushing and stammering on the left. “Dear god, it’s like no matter the makeup he still manages to get beet red.”

“Ehm, not particularly, no.”

Ed looks undeterred. “Really? Not planning on hitting the beach or anything?”

Niall looks into the camera like he’s begging for his life. Zayn rolls his eyes and speaks into his headset.

“Ten more seconds, Ni. Just banter for fuck’s sake.”

“Nope, I don’t really—”

“Which isn’t to say that you’re pale!” Ed bursts out, looking suddenly horrified. “I just mean, I wasn’t insinuating that you need a tan or anything—”

Niall’s eyes widen as the thought occurs.

“What the fuck,” Zayn whispers hopelessly.

“Ehm, well…” Niall begins, before a desperate Ed cuts him off.

“I just meant I’m sure you look quite fit in a swimsuit is all!”

“And cut to commercial,” Zayn says. Nick and Louis, who have been barely containing their laughter for the past fifteen seconds, completely lose it and begin roaring in their seats.

On their respective screens, Niall has slid below his desk in mortification and Ed appears to be hitting himself in the forehead repeatedly.

Before Zayn can snap at everyone to get a hold of themselves, a loud knock on the door proceeds Harry Styles sticking his head in, a wicked grin on his face.

“You know, they told me they were sending me in to _save_ your show, but I honestly haven’t been this entertained in years.”

Zayn throws a pen at Harry’s head. To Zayn’s annoyance, he easily dodges it, his laughter joining that of Nick and Louis.

Zayn storms past Harry, out of the control room, and to the set. Leaning over Niall’s desk, he grips him firmly by the shoulder and pulls him upright.

“You have interviewed a _sitting prime minister_ ,” he says lowly, and Niall sighs in resignation. “You are the most charismatic man on the news, famous throughout this entire industry for charming belligerent interviewees into unequivocal honesty. _And yet_. Every time a certain weatherperson opens his mouth you manage to devolve into incoherence.”

“It’s not my fault!” Niall says, sitting up a bit straighter. “Why do we even have to talk, anyway? There’s no point to it.”

“You have to talk because every other anchor and weather forecaster in television fucking news does it, Ni!”

Niall grumbles to himself and someone begins to countdown to the end of the break. Zayn sighs and claps Niall on the shoulder.

“That was a bit rough, I’m sorry. Just… do your best with him, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall says, but he’s back to wearing his trademark grin. “Get back to the nerd cave.”   
  
“Asshole,” Zayn laughs, and ducks out of the way just in time for the cameras to turn back on.

* * *

 

Monday morning Zayn enters the studio feeling like he’s about to go to war. He’s been preparing himself all weekend, planning out the week’s schedule and trying to brace himself for whatever horrors Harry Styles’ segments will have in store.

Warily, Zayn had watched a few of Harry’s most popular videos on YouTube in the name of research. During one of the videos, Harry regaled his audience with the lurid details of an evening during which he had scheduled hookups with no less than six different Tinder connections, all of whom he referred to with increasingly ridiculous pseudonyms. Another involved him passionately denouncing the institution of marriage, not on any political grounds, but because it “took the fun out of sex, didn’t it?” By the time Zayn reached a video in which Harry rated and then demonstrated the hottest yoga poses to fuck in, he was on his third glass of wine and covering his eyes with one hand in exhausted exasperation.

Today Zayn is trying to force himself to be positive. So far it isn’t going well.

“Where the _fuck_ is he?”

They have less than half an hour until the show starts and Harry Styles is nowhere to be found. Louis shrugs in response to Zayn’s question and shoos Ed away to makeup.

“Does he have no actual idea how real jobs work, then?” Zayn asks loudly.

“Stop worrying,” Nick says. He’s setting up the second chair at the anchor’s desk in preparation for Harry as if what he is doing isn’t _literally_ rearranging chairs on the Titanic. Zayn points this out and gets nothing but a quick glance up and a stuck-out tongue from Nick.

“Well, maybe this is just fine then,” Zayn says. Everyone is just walking around him and going about their business as if this is all normal and everything is going to plan. “Fine. Maybe this is perfect. He won’t show up and I’ll be allowed to fire him and we’ll fill his time with Niall doing accents.”

“Much as I’m sure you would love that,” Harry says—Zayn rolls his eyes and turns around—“It will not actually be necessary.”

“I don’t have the time to tell you that you’re late,” Zayn says. “But just get to makeup and know that—”

“Know that I’m late?” Harry is wearing a lazy grin but is at least more or less dressed for television, so Zayn ignores him and starts walking toward the control room.

* * *

 

“Today marks the first use of our new opening segment starring Internet sensation Harry Styles,” Niall says brightly. “Each day Harry will be talking about relationships, love, and of course, sex. Welcome to the show, Harry.”

“Cut to camera two,” Zayn says.

Harry runs a hand through his hair and smiles charmingly. “Thanks, Niall. Though I’ve got to correct you—I don’t talk about love.”

“No?”

Harry leans back in his seat in a way that’s far too casual. Zayn grits his teeth as a camera guy adjusts to keep Harry in the frame.

“My philosophy is essentially that real, good relationships are based on sex. Sex is what brings us together, right? Attraction is actually at its purest when it’s all about visceral desire.”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “And your point about love is…”

Harry spreads his arms wide. “That it doesn’t exist. It’s totally made up.”

A dramatic pause settles over them before Harry leans forward again to continue.

“Romance is just a tool used to neuter us. And the people who buy into it… well, frankly they’re idiots.”

Zayn hears a loud cracking sound and looks down to realize that he’s broken his pen in half.

“They think for some ungodly reason that people are _actually_ built to just pick another person and settle down with them for the rest of their lives. And the saddest part is that these are the ones who act all shocked when their spouses sleep around on them! What did you expect, mate? We’re animals, full stop, and not the _domesticated_ kind either.” Harry gives a smug smile directly into the camera.

“That’s it,” Zayn says. He connects to Niall’s earpiece. “I want you to destroy him, Nialler.”

“Zayn,” Louis says. “Let’s be reasonable. I thought you’d agreed to at least try and—”

“ _Destroy_ him,” Zayn repeats firmly, glaring in Louis’ direction briefly before returning his gaze to the monitors.

Niall sits up a little straighter. “So would you say that your philosophy is informed by your sexual entitlement, your lack of emotional intelligence, or your male privilege?”

Laugher erupts from the control room and Zayn feels a grin coming over his face.

Harry turns pink even as he seems to try and collect himself.

“Why talk about me when we could talk about you?” he asks quickly.

“Oh, seriously?” Zayn asks. Niall seems to feel the same way.

“Stop trying to deflect,” he says. “You and your ideas are—”

Harry glances off-screen, and the nervous expression on his face undergoes some sort of horrible change, making him suddenly look equal parts confident and evil.

“Hey, Ed,” he says, gesturing for someone to come closer. “Why don’t you join us for a bit?”

“What the fuck is he doing?” Zayn says.

“Um, he seems to be bringing the weather guy on,” Nick says. Sure enough, Harry has gotten up from his seat, walked off-camera, grabbed Ed around the wrist, and tugged him to the anchor table.

Zayn begins heading for the door, about ready to get into a fistfight with Harry Styles before he lets him commandeer the show, when Louis steps in front of him with his arms crossed.

“You _can’t_ , Zayn,” he says sharply. “The only reason we are on the air is because he gets control over the first ten minutes of every show. If you push this, we’re all losing our jobs.”

Zayn knows that Louis is right, he does. Nevertheless, he stares at him  intently for a few more seconds before conceding and reluctantly turning back to the monitor.

Harry has placed Ed in the chair he himself was sitting in a moment ago, standing behind him with his hands clapped down on Ed’s shoulders firmly. Ed looks lost and Niall is staring at him with something like dawning horror.

“A case study,” Harry announces. “Two coworkers have known each other for years. The persistent and frankly embarrassing sexual tension between them is so obvious that every time these coworkers’ parents watch their show, they end up calling to ask if these coworkers are dating yet or not—am I on the right track?”

Zayn tosses the remains of his pen to the ground in frustration. Niall is slowly sinking down in his chair and Ed has already turned redder than his hair.

“I thought so,” Harry says, smiling sharply. “Now, if one of these two coworkers is so skeptical about my theories and methods, then he won’t mind giving them a try just to prove them wrong, will he?”

Niall begins to shake his head. “I’m not—”

“Come on, Niall,” Harry says. “It’s not like anything I have to say is legitimate, right? What do you have to lose by following my advice and proving that it doesn’t work?”

“Um, what exactly—” Ed starts.

“The perfect solution to unacknowledged sexual tension is simply to kiss it out,” Harry says. “I want you two to make out, right now.”

“ _No_ ,” Niall says quickly, sitting up properly. “I am not kissing Ed against his will in our workplace just so you can—”

“Ah, so you’d be willing to do it if it was _with_ his permission and _not_ in your workplace then?” Harry says triumphantly. Zayn smacks himself in the forehead. They are currently broadcasting the stupidest piece of television in the history of the medium.

“I—” Niall looks mortified. “That’s not the point. Not at all. I mean, even if he wanted me to, which he doesn’t… I mean, it doesn’t—”

Zayn watches what happens next as if it’s occurring in the most agonizing slow-motion ever invented. A number of emotions cross over Ed’s face, the last of which is an inexplicable vision of determination. Then Ed leans forward over the table, takes Niall’s chin gently in one hand, and presses a soft kiss to his lips.

“ _Oh for the love of god_!” Zayn shouts. The rest of the control room has burst into movement and sound: half of them are giggling delightedly and the other half, including Louis and Nick, are pounding their hands on the tables and roaring in surprise like they’re watching a close football game.

Niall melts into the kiss, taking Ed’s face in his own hands to hold it there after a moment. Harry stands over them with his hands behind his back, grinning into the camera.

“That’s all I’ve got for you today, everyone,” he says brightly. “Stick around after the commercial break for the latest updates on highway construction developments.”

* * *

 

“You’re an asshole and an idiot,” Zayn sharply tells Harry as soon as the show wraps up. It was a miracle that they managed to film anything at all after the disaster that was the first segment. Niall and Ed were both in complete dazes for the rest of the hour. Liam was the only one who managed to fully keep his segment in control.

“You are going to singlehandedly run this show into the ground,” Zayn continues. “And—”

“Have you gone online?” Harry asks, unconcerned. He’s loosening his tie.

Before Zayn can answer, Louis walks up and holds his phone out. “You should see this, Zayn.”

Zayn grabs Louis’ phone, but he’s just got Twitter pulled up.

“‘Ned is real’ is trending nationally,” Louis explains. “As is ‘Ned Shoran.’”

Zayn stares at Louis’ phone for a few long, agonizing moments.

“Ned Shoran, it’s a portmanteau,” Harry says helpfully. Zayn glares up at him as he continues. “Turns out the kids really ship it. My grandfather too, oddly enough. I think you’ll find that our ratings will have increased a bit by the end of the week.”

* * *

 

By the next day, their online traffic has skyrocketed. Zayn knows that the views for today’s show will probably triple what they had yesterday.

“Boys,” Caroline says excitedly. She’s called him and Louis into her office prior to the show starting. “We haven’t seen these numbers in _years_. Do you know how many YouTube hits that kiss got in the past 24 hours?”

Zayn grudgingly nods. He’d seen the numbers for himself as soon as he got in. It was all anyone could talk about.

“I know how you feel about him,” Caroline adds, seeming to read his facial expression despite his attempt to control it. “But Zayn, we need this _so badly_. I want you to give him whatever he asks for and let him do whatever he wants, because that segment is going to singlehandedly save the show.”

Zayn sighs and glances at Louis for help. Louis gives him a look that’s a little too “I told you so” for Zayn to handle this early in the morning, so he turns back to Caroline and nods.

As they leave her office and head for the set, Louis nudges Zayn’s side with an elbow.

“Try not to look like you’re going to a funeral, yeah?” he says. “Our ratings are up! Do you really hate him so much that you don’t even care about that anymore?”

“Of course I care,” Zayn says quickly, dodging some interns who are carrying an inflatable pool past them. “And I don’t hate _him_ , I don’t give a shit about him. I hate what he represents. The network has taken over the show and they’re trying to turn it into some sort of vapid sex hotline.”

“Yeah, you don’t give a shit about him,” Louis says sarcastically. “That’s why you call him names once an hour and obsessively watched his entire videography. _And_ why you can’t stop drooling over his hair, _and_ why you tried to force him to button up his shirt yesterday because it was ‘distracting.’”

“It was open practically down to his navel!” Zayn protests.

“Which you know because you were looking,” Louis says.

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Zayn says, feeling his face heat up the smallest bit. “I’m not obsessed with him, I just need him to act like a professional. Why would I be obsessed with someone whose life philosophy is that people who fall in love are idiots who deserve to get cheated on and sex is the only desirable endgame to any given relationship?”

“Don’t ask me, you’re the one who’s obsessed with him,” Louis mutters. “I never said it made _sense_ that the guy who’s been planning his wedding since he was five has a crush on—”

Zayn stops walking just outside of the set area, whirls around, and gives Louis a very dangerous look. “Let’s establish this once and forever. I do _not_ have a crush on him. The next time I hear the word ‘crush’ come out of anyone’s mouth I’m going to throw a fit.”

From next to the breakfast table, Harry saunters over, a half-eaten apple in one hand.

“Who’s got a crush?” he asks around his mouthful of food.

Zayn closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, Louis is failing to suppress a smirk.

“Nobody,” Zayn says sharply. “Now get to makeup.”

* * *

 

The show goes to plan better than it did yesterday. Zayn has to admit that now that Niall and Ed have finally gotten together, they have enormous chemistry that manages to bolster the whole show. And Harry’s segment, featuring an inflatable pool of jell-o and a couple of his model friends, manages to finish up without Zayn feeling like he’s going to get too many angry calls from the FCC.

It’s only 30 seconds before they’re about to come back from commercial for Liam’s sports segment that Zayn realizes Liam is missing his earpiece.

“Shit,” he says under his breath, snagging it from the prep table and ducking out of the control room. He runs past the cameras, the interns, Niall and Ed sharing a muffin at the breakfast table, and an intrigued-looking Harry.

Liam is nervously patting down his suit pockets just as Zayn arrives, out of breath and holding out the earpiece.

Liam smiles beatifically, taking it and pressing it carefully into his right ear.

“Babe, you’re such a lifesaver,” he says. Zayn feels his knees going a little weak. He knows Liam didn’t mean it like that, knows that Liam has always called his friends “babe,” but he can’t help but revel in the casual intimacy of Liam’s words. Before he can respond, though, a camerawoman warns him that they have five seconds to air.

“Um, break a leg!” Zayn says quickly, and ducks out of the way of the camera just in time.

* * *

 

“I figured it out,” Harry announces as Zayn is packing up the last of his things. Everyone else has already gone home, but Zayn usually stays a little late to prepare for the next day’s show.

“How to coordinate floral patterns?” Zayn murmurs.

“Hey,” Harry says indignantly, and Zayn bites back a smile, busying himself with his briefcase so Harry doesn’t see it.

“I figured out who you have a crush on,” Harry says, and that makes the smile drop right off of Zayn’s face. He tugs the case closed and turns around.

“I mean, it was pretty obvious,” Harry says smugly. “Don’t really know why you thought you could hide it.”

“Listen,” Zayn starts, not sure how he’s going to continue, but sure that he won’t be able to bear the embarrassment of Harry buying into this ridiculous idea that Louis has concocted. Of course Harry would be only too eager to think that Zayn had feelings for him, never mind that they’re non-existent.

“I can’t blame you, though,” Harry continues, ignoring Zayn. “He’s certainly the hottest sports anchor _I’ve_ ever seen.”

“I—what?”

“Liam Payne,” Harry says, drawing out the name in a proprietary sort of way that makes Zayn feel a little odd. “I could help you with that, you know.”

That second sentence is enough to break Zayn out of whatever weird space the first had had briefly put him in. Zayn snorts indelicately.

“Not really interested in your version of ‘help,’ mate,” he says. “Even if I did have feelings for Liam, which I don’t.”

Harry gives Zayn an unimpressed look.

“I won’t dignify _that_ with a response,” he says. “And what exactly are you implying about my help?”

Zayn rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, tired of the conversation and ready to go home.

“Only that if I were looking to win someone over I wouldn’t do it with jell-o shots or bad pickup lines. Nor would I sneak out of their bed the next morning and brag about it to my mates.”

Harry takes a step forward himself, and now they’re standing a little bit closer than they probably should be.

“Did I or did I not arrange for the happy union of your news and weather anchors?” he asks. “And were they or were they not dancing around each other for years prior to that? Just because I’m not partial to it myself doesn’t mean I don’t know how to play the romance game.”

“It’s not a _game_ ,” Zayn insists with a frown.

Harry raises his arms in concession.

“All I’m saying is, I need a new project. And you clearly need to get laid. Why not combine our efforts, yeah?”

Zayn swears he can feel a twitch developing in his eye.

“Harry,” he says in as calm a tone as he can muster. “You are employed here by the grace of a group of network executives for whom I can assure you that a sexual harassment lawsuit would be far more of a bother than your job being terminated. So back off and don’t ever mention this topic to me again.”

Zayn grabs his briefcase and walks around Harry and out the door. As it swings shut behind him, Harry calls, “I’ll let you sleep on it, then?”

* * *

 

That night, Zayn dreams that he’s Spider-Man.

The Green Goblin has kidnapped Gwen Stacy, and Zayn is running out of the school after them and pulling his mask on over his face. Before he can swing away, though, Mary-Jane Watson is standing right in front of him.

She pulls his mask back up over his nose and plants a searing kiss on Zayn’s lips. Zayn sways in place, lost in the pleasure of it, until Mary-Jane finally pulls away.

“Go get our girl, tiger,” she says.

Her eyes are such a striking shade of green.

* * *

 

Zayn can readily admit that he’s never properly considered what it would be like to be with Liam. He’s fantasized about it, sure. Gotten lost in daydreams about going to the fair together, surprising Liam with tickets to a movie, sharing hot chocolate under the covers of their bed on a cold day. But to seriously consider it is something that has always been outside of the realm of possibility in Zayn’s mind. He never thought that trying to date Liam would ever be an option for him, not until Harry introduced the idea.

And now, Zayn can’t stop thinking about it.

He’s spent the past few days catching himself lost in thoughts of when he would ask, what he would be wearing when he did, where he would suggest they go for a first date. It’s ridiculous. He’s been inceptioned.

Finally, having lost his patience, Zayn approaches Harry’s anchor chair during a commercial break, crosses his arms, and grudgingly says, “How would you do it, then? If you were to—”

Zayn waves his arms in what’s meant to be a vague approximation of “set me up with the man I’ve been pining after ever since I started this job.”

Harry beams up at Zayn and doesn’t bother to ask what he’s talking about. Zayn has caught Harry periodically giving him these thoughtful looks ever since their conversation the other night, and he knows all too well that Harry knows how much Zayn has been thinking about it.

“Leave it to me,” Harry says.

Zayn frowns and is about to ask what exactly that’s supposed to mean, when Louis suddenly calls him back to the control room.

* * *

 

Zayn doesn’t have to wait too long to find out what Harry meant, though, because the very next morning Harry greets him on set by throwing a pitcher of orange juice directly onto Zayn’s shirt.

“ _Harry_!” Zayn yells. He’s standing shock still, one hand holding a pile of ratings that he just barely saved from ruin by sticking them out of reach in the nick of time. His shirt, though, has been completely ruined, and orange juice is not only dripping down to his pants, but has also started to puddle around his feet.

“Oh dear,” Harry says drily. “What a terrible accident.”

“ _What_ are—”

Zayn is interrupted by Liam entering the set from the lobby. As soon as he sees Zayn’s condition, he stops in his tracks, eyes wide.

“I’m just so sorry about that,” Harry says in a fake sincere voice that Zayn can only guess is for Liam’s benefit. “Here, let me fix it.”

Harry proceeds to grab Zayn’s shirt by the collar and rip it open. Buttons drop and scatter as Zayn wishes he could just die and get put out of his misery.

“What—are you— _doing_?” he says, trying in vain to stop Harry from pulling his arms out of the sleeves and removing his shirt entirely.

“Just give me a minute, I’ll go find you a replacement,” Harry says. He has somehow finished, bundling Zayn’s juice-soaked shirt in his hands and making a quick, satisfied nod at the result.

Zayn is helplessly lost. He’s standing stripped to the waist, soaking wet, and freezing in the building’s air conditioning. Before he can do more than glare in Harry’s direction, Harry has completely abandoned him, and it’s only in that moment that Zayn remembers that Liam was witness to the whole thing.

Liam’s eyes are even wider than they were before. His mouth is hanging open the smallest bit as he stares for a few long moments at Zayn’s bare chest.

Embarrassed, Zayn coughs and crosses his arms. That seems to bring Liam back to himself, and he jumps a bit in surprise.

“I’m—Zayn, I’m so sorry, I just—Here, let me,” Liam says quickly, and takes off his suit jacket to hand to Zayn.

“No, you don’t have to—”

“No, please,” Liam says. “You look… cold.”

Liam flushes pink. Zayn tries not to think about what his own face must look like, and takes the jacket to wrap around himself.

“Thanks,” he says softly. The jacket smells like Liam, like the combination of colognes that he likes in the ratios that he’s always so particular about. And like something else, too, something that Zayn can’t fully place but that smells distinctly Liam-ish.

“You—um—” Liam starts a bit shyly. “I didn’t know you had more tattoos.”

Zayn glances down at his chest.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “Well… yeah.”

“I like them,” Liam says, smiling.

Something flutters in Zayn’s stomach.

“Got it!” Harry calls, walking back onto the set with little apparent haste. He raises an eyebrow at Liam’s jacket where it’s wrapped around Zayn and tosses a dry shirt in his direction. Zayn gives Harry an unimpressed look, but pulls off Liam’s jacket and begins to replace it with the shirt.

“Enjoying the view, Liam?” Harry asks pointedly. Zayn glances up to see Liam staring intently at the sliver of his torso still visible through his yet-unbuttoned shirt. As Harry’s words register, though, Liam blushes anew, murmurs something about checking on Niall, and leaves the set quickly, only managing to bump into a spare camera once on his way out.

Zayn looks at Harry’s gleeful expression and shakes his head.

“I don’t want to hear any complaining,” Harry says, looking far too pleased with himself. “You two are going to be acting more disgustingly domestic than Niall and Ed by the end of the month if I have anything to do with it.”

Zayn has to admit, even if only to himself, that Harry might have a point.

* * *

 

“It’s all about sex,” Harry says, digging into his salad with surprising relish. “The thing that hopeless romantics like you don’t understand is that getting someone to walk down the aisle involves the exact same steps as getting them to fall into bed.”   
  
“Charming,” Zayn says after swallowing a bite of chicken. They’ve somehow ended up going out to lunch together to talk the plan over, despite a few of Zayn’s slightly persistent misgivings.

“ _True_ ,” Harry corrects. “Look at what happened this morning. Liam was _drooling_ over you. Even your oblivious ass must’ve noticed. And why do you think that was? It wasn’t because you bought him any flowers.”

“So basically,” Zayn says. “Your plan is to use ridiculous seduction techniques because you think they work just as well as normal-people-who-are-interested-in-one-another-interacting-normally techniques.”

“Better,” Harry says, pointing a fork meaningfully in Zayn’s direction. “They work better than all that nonsense.”

And Harry, to Zayn’s increasing bemusement over the next few weeks, proves to be right.

Every scheme that he comes up with, much as they each involve varying levels of humiliation for Zayn, Liam, or the both of them at the same time, manage to push them together in ways that might never have happened otherwise.

The particularly memorable incident that finally proves to be the catalyst for Zayn asking Liam out on a date involves Harry managing to lock them in a closet together after a show, then pretending to have lost the key for a solid hour.

“I hope it isn’t too crowded in there,” Harry says through the door, and Zayn can only sigh deeply in response from where he’s been forced to sit on Liam’s lap.

Liam giggles, a sound that Zayn has grown accustomed to but no less enamoured of before it became a daily part of his work life. Liam, as it happens, has a much better sense of humor when it comes to the increasingly and painfully obvious “techniques” that Harry uses in his efforts to put them in varyingly inappropriate situations.

“At least he didn’t do it before the show,” Liam says lowly into Zayn’s ear, and the feel of his breath against Zayn’s skin sends a warm spark up Zayn’s spine.

Unable to muster a response that isn’t “Don’t let him hear you say that or we might end up locked in here all week,” Zayn turns and gives Liam a smile in lieu of speaking. Liam’s gaze drops down to Zayn’s lips in the process.

“Liam,” Zayn says suddenly, because maddeningly close proximity to Liam’s body has apparently made him lose the last of his reservations. “Do you want to have lunch with me tomorrow?”

Liam, who had looked back up into Zayn’s eyes when he said his name, allows a happy grin to overtake his face.

“I thought you’d never ask, to be honest,” Liam says, and Zayn feels his face heat a bit with surprised pleasure.

They’re so close, and somehow Liam’s arms have wrapped around Zayn’s waist from behind. Zayn can still feel a small bit of the warmth from Liam’s breath on his face even though he’s turned where he’s sitting to look into Liam’s eyes.

“I really like you,” Zayn breathes out, unaware of what he’s saying until he’s said it.

Liam’s eyes crinkle as he bites back a smile.

“I really like you too,” he whispers.

Zayn leans forward as Liam does the same. Their lips are a scant inch apart.

The door bangs open suddenly, and Zayn jumps out of Liam’s lap in surprise.

“Found it,” Harry says, eyeing them both knowingly. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

Liam laughs good-naturedly and stands up. Zayn can’t bring himself to complain about the interruption. After Liam has left the room, he even finds himself dropping a fond and gentle punch into Harry’s arm. He wonders when he started to find Harry’s shenanigans more amusing than annoying.

* * *

 

The next few weeks seem to fly by. Zayn and Liam have been on six dates so far, and each has been more perfect than the last. Harry has become Zayn’s go-to advisor, telling him what to wear and where to go on every date. They’ve become friends outside of the Liam project, too, as even Caroline notices.

“I’m so glad that things worked out between you and Harry,” she says one morning. “Honestly, we rely on you both so much, I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like if you’d been at each other’s throats forever.”

“Yeah, they’re practically best mates now,” Louis mutters. He doesn’t raise his head from where he’s leafing through some paperwork on Caroline’s desk, but his shoulders have tensed a bit.

Caroline jerks her head in Louis’ direction and gives Zayn a quizzical look. He takes Louis’ elbow and steers him out of the office and into the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” Zayn asks once they’re out of earshot. He feels a pang of guilt; between dates with Liam and hanging out with Harry, he hasn’t spent as much time as usual with Louis over the past few weeks.

“Nothing,” Louis says sharply. “Why would anything be wrong?”

All too used to the defensiveness Louis falls back on whenever he feels hurt, Zayn simply crosses his arms and waits him out.

It takes less than thirty seconds.

“It’s not like I still haven’t seen _Wonder Woman_ because we swore we would do it together but someone has been too busy palling around with his former arch-nemesis,” Louis bursts out, glaring at Zayn accusingly. “And it’s not like I’ve been forced to start eating lunch with _Grimshaw_ of all people because someone is always shacking up with Prince Charming.”

Zayn shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling ashamed.

“I’ve been totally caught up in my own shit, haven’t I?” he says after a pause. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Lou.”

Louis shrugs peevishly, staring at the ground.

“Whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” Zayn protests. “You’re my best mate in the world, yeah?”

Louis looks up at that.

“Not Harry or Liam, then?” he mumbles embarrassedly after a moment, glancing away as he says the words just as quickly as he met Zayn’s eyes.

“Of course not!” Zayn says. “Listen. I’m canceling everything else today, you and I are getting lunch out and going to _Wonder Woman_ as soon as the show’s over.”

Louis finally meets Zayn’s eyes and holds his gaze. He stares searchingly for a moment, then gives a shrug even as he tries to hide his grin.

“Guess I could fit you in.”

* * *

 

Later that week, Zayn and Liam are planning out the next day’s sports segment (and may or may not be playing footsie under the table at the same time) when Nick walks up, plants his hands on the table, and announces, “We might have a problem.”

“What’s wrong?” Zayn asks immediately.

Nick leans forward and speaks lowly.

“James has just intimated to me that he’s courting Harry.”

“For marriage?!” Liam asks immediately. Zayn would be a little jealous over his panicked tone if he himself had not just felt his stomach drop at the very thought. He shoves their reactions away for later consideration.

Nick, for his part, looks at Liam like he’s just spoken in a different language.

“No, not for _marriage_ , you silly supermodel. For _Late Late_ of course.”

Zayn feels a brief moment of relief, only for it to be overwhelmed by worry.

“We can’t let him!” Liam insists. Zayn nods fervently in agreement.

Nick glances between them, an odd expression on his face. A long pause overtakes the table.

“You two fucking like him, don’t you?” he finally asks suspiciously.

“Of course we do,” Liam says surely. “He’s one of my best friends! He was the one who set us up in the first place.”

At Zayn’s surprised expression, Liam looks a little bashful and shrugs.

“No offense, babe, but it’s not exactly your style to strip off your shirt in the middle of work.”

Zayn gives a conceding nod before they’re interrupted by Nick.

“That is _not_ what I meant by—” he starts. “Honestly, you two are—No. Never mind. I swear I will not get involved in your personal drama. Just make sure Harry doesn’t leave the show and leave us all jobless, yeah?”

“We’re going to take care of it,” Zayn says.

* * *

 

Harry has been talking with James about _The Late Late Show_ for some time now. It would be huge for his career, a real, national start-up. But he can’t help but think that there’s no way he’ll actually do it. Silly as it might seem, this local news show has somehow really grown on him. At least, he tells himself that it’s the show, and not a certain producer and his sports anchor boyfriend.

He’s just finished his segment and is heading for the breakfast table when Zayn’s voice comes through on his earpiece.

“Liam and I are going to that French place tonight. We got the reservation for three, want to come?”

Harry raises an eyebrow and glances behind him at where Niall is running through some national reports.

“Fraternizing during the show, Zayn?” he chides. “Shouldn’t you be focused?”

“Nah, Louis has it covered,” Zayn says. He must be standing outside of the control room, there’s no way he’d risk distracting everyone with this. Still, Harry is surprised.

“Why is this so important you couldn’t wait to ask me until after the show?”

“Because we really want you to come,” Zayn says, prompt and sincere.

Harry is so tempted, but…

“Sorry, darling,” he says. “Contrary to popular belief I am not actually your fairy godmother. Can’t come along to chaperone just because you kids want a night on the town.”

Part of him wonders why they would even invite him in the first place, though he guesses it’s mostly due to nerves on Zayn’s part. This is their first big date—fancy restaurant, fancy clothes, the implicit fact that they’ll probably end the night in the same bed. Zayn is probably freaking out.

“Come on,” Zayn cajoles. “It’s just friends hanging out. Contrary to popular belief, we do occasionally enjoy your company.”

The teasing tone is unfair. Zayn knows the effect that his flirting has on Harry—actually, Harry prays that he doesn’t and that it’s all unconscious on his part.

“Hmm,” Harry says. He grins to himself, imagining Zayn’s impatient expression as he pretends to demure. “I suppose I might be able to pencil you in.”

“Be ready at six, okay?”

* * *

They’re both so gorgeous.

It’s almost breathtaking, Harry thinks, and then shakes his head and wonders when he got so ridiculous. He needs to snap out of it. Maybe he shouldn’t have come tonight after all. You would almost think that he was—

“Love this weather we’re having,” Liam says brightly.

“Um, yeah,” Harry says, though he finds it a bit warm. Maybe it’s because he’s wearing a suit for the restaurant. He loosens his tie a bit.

Once they get seated, Zayn leans forward toward Harry.

“Have a bit of a confession to make,” he says. “We should get it out of the way before we eat. Liam and I—well, we heard you were talking with James, yeah?”   
  
Harry registers Zayn’s words and feels unaccountably embarrassed. Not at being caught shopping around for other jobs, but at the fact that he didn’t realize this was why they’d invited him along tonight. He can’t believe he got himself so worked up over it when they just wanted to make sure he wasn’t ditching out on their show.

“Don’t worry,” he assures them. “I’m not planning on leaving, I actually called James about it this afternoon. Didn’t want to seem like I was stringing him along.”

Zayn and Liam smile at him and then at each other.

“I knew it,” Liam says, relief palpable in his tone. “I knew you wouldn’t leave us, you’ve been so happy with us, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry says honestly, and he can’t help but smile at their obvious happiness. “I have been.”

“Good,” Zayn says. “Because honestly, much as I wanted to kick your ass for those first few weeks, we’d be totally dead without you.”

Harry glances between them as they start to look over their menus, and realizes that it would probably be polite to leave now before things get awkward. (He doesn’t let himself think about the fact that prior to meeting Zayn and Liam, he had never bothered to concern himself with what was polite). Now that they’ve assured themselves that he isn’t leaving the show, he should probably leave them to enjoy their date in peace. 

“Well, I should probably get an early night in,” he says, starting to gather his napkin off of his lap.

“Where are you going?” Liam asks, looking up with concern. Zayn sets his menu back down on the table.

“Um… home?” Harry suggests. “Not that I didn’t appreciate the invitation, but—”

“We want you here for more than just talking about the show,” Zayn says, seeming to read his mind. “What, you thought we just invited you so we could ask about that? Come on, sit down. I’m starving.”

Reluctantly, Harry allows himself to sit back down.

 _A little indulgence never hurt anyone_ , he thinks, though he isn’t sure if he’s indulging his appetite or something else.

Everything seems to be going fine, though. The meal is delicious, they all talk just like they normally do.

And it isn’t until dessert that everything goes to hell.

“This is so nice, yeah?” Liam says, and Zayn nods quickly, completely and embarrassingly enamoured. He’d probably have nodded like that even if Liam had suggested that they all start dancing on the table. Harry feels odd. It’s the feeling you get right before a revelation hits you.

“We should do this more often,” Zayn says. “The three of us. Maybe tomorrow night, too."

He’s so wrapped up in Liam that he probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying. They’re probably speaking telepathically or something.

Liam’s eyes light up. Harry stares at him. He doesn’t know that he’s ever seen anyone’s eyes light up quite like that before.

“Yeah,” Liam agrees softly. “I love that idea.”

Harry glances from Zayn to Liam and back again. They’re lost in each other’s eyes, hands gently holding onto each other over the table. It hits him like a bolt of lightning, the grand epiphany that’s been circling over him for the past few moments.

It’s comprised of two horrifying realizations that hit Harry at the exact same time.

Zayn and Liam are actually in love with each other. It’s not just an infatuation, it’s not just sexual tension. It’s not loneliness, it’s not friendship gone too far. It’s not any of the things that Harry had always thought were the real reasons behind people acting this way.

It’s real. It’s—Zayn and Liam are _actually in love with each other_.

And Harry? Harry’s—

He jumps up from the table, startling Zayn and Liam in the process. They glance up at him in confusion.

“So sorry,” he says. “I forgot—something. Have to run, you stay here, have a nice night.”

And to the bemusement of his friends, he ducks out of the restaurant before they can even reply.

* * *

 

Zayn and Liam were both confused at Harry’s abrupt departure last night, but they agree that beyond that aspect, it went well. Liam has sent Zayn to collect Harry for tonight’s date.

“Haz!” Zayn calls. He knocks on the door to Harry’s apartment. “Are you ready?”

There’s a long stretch of silence as Zayn waits. He pulls his phone out, frowning as he checks it to see that there are no messages or missed calls from Harry.

“Harry?” he says, a little louder this time. Through the door there’s a muffled thump.

“I—Yeah, I’m not feeling too well,” Harry says through the door. Zayn leans forward and presses his ear near the crack to hear better. “Sorry, Z, I just—can’t really make it tonight.”

“What’s wrong?” Zayn asks at once. “Are you okay? Do you need some medicine or something?”

Harry faintly groans.

“Shit, Haz, what’s going on?” Zayn feels himself beginning to worry in earnest. “Why don’t you let me in, yeah?”

“No, no, you just get to Liam,” Harry calls. “I’m fine, honestly.”

Impatient, Zayn tests the doorknob and finds it unlocked. He promptly opens it and steps inside.

“Oi, the fuck?” Harry snaps from his couch. He lifts his head and glares. He’s in a worn t-shirt and boxers, but otherwise doesn’t look too sick. Zayn walks forward and presses a hand against his forehead. 

Annoyed, Harry tries to bat it away, but not before Zayn can tell that he’s neither feverish nor clammy.

“You’re perfectly fine,” Zayn accuses. “C’mon, stop messing around, we’re going to be late.”

“ _No_ , I’m not,” Harry says. “I can’t come, you’ll just have to do it without me.” He turns around and faces away from Zayn, tugging an afghan over his shoulder petulantly.

“Why—”

“Just leave it, Zayn!”

Zayn crosses his arms. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell’s going on with you.”

Harry throws the afghan off, huffs loudly, and springs to his feet. He whirls on Zayn, his hair mussed and his eyes wide.

“Zayn, I was wrong.”

Zayn stares for a few moments, registering the words. Before he can reply, Harry continues. He starts to pace the length of his couch furiously, running his fingers through his hair in short, frustrated motions.

“Everything I ever told you was bullshit. You were right, I was a complete idiot. I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about and I didn’t even know that I didn’t know what I was fucking talking about.”

“What—”

Harry cuts him off. “ _Sex_ , Zayn! I was so convinced, so sure that it all came back to sex and it was so fucking stupid. I thought… It doesn’t matter anyway, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I was wrong. I was so full of shit, I was such an asshole. But—”

Harry turns sharply, looking at Zayn with some emotion in his eyes that Zayn can’t register. “Listen. Here’s the point. You and Liam are real. You have something real and it’s—it’s not some fucking sex thing.”

Zayn is staring at Harry in complete confusion. He doesn’t know what to say or do. Harry has never looked like this before. He looks lost.

“Here it is, Zayn,” Harry says. “Here it is, right? I have nothing to teach you. Everything I—Nothing that I taught you or that I told you to do had anything to do with you and Liam. He’s loved you since before I knew you, Zayn.”

Zayn feels some sort of bubble start to form in his chest. It’s like hope and confusion and joy all at once. If Liam—If Liam had felt that way since—

“Did… Harry, did he _tell_ you that?”

Harry is staring at Zayn. Zayn doesn’t fully register that his eyes are gleaming and his lips are pressed shut.

“As good as, Zayn,” Harry says finally. “I know it. I saw it in his eyes last night, he—he loves you. He’s been in love with you for god only knows how long.”

Zayn beams. He feels the ecstatic grin coming over his face even as his body is flooded with adrenaline. They’ve been dating, obviously, and Zayn feels happy with it, and Liam seems to be happy too, but this is confirmation of something much bigger.

“But Harry, this is _brilliant_! Oh my god! Since before we even—”

He takes a few steps forward and sweeps Harry into a hug. They stand there in stillness for a moment before Zayn squeezes Harry tighter and feels Harry finally reciprocate. Zayn’s nose is buried in Harry’s hair, and he giggles at the tickling feeling when Harry shifts his head a bit.   
  
“You and your ridiculous hair,” he murmurs, but he savors the smell of it. It smells so sweet, almost floral.

Harry is holding Zayn tight now, almost too tight. His face is buried in the side of Zayn’s neck. After a while, it gets to be near painful.

“I swear, Haz,” Zayn says, gently pulling away. “You’re worse than my parents whenever they see me off at the airport.”

Harry gives a weak laugh, and Zayn looks at him a little more closely. He seems tired, a bit closed off.

“Listen,” Zayn says. “I know you think you were wrong about everything, and maybe you were a bit full of shit when it came to the sex stuff.” He gives a teasing smile that makes Harry laugh a little louder this time. “But in all honesty, if we hadn’t done this, I never would’ve gotten Liam. Never in a million years would I’ve gotten the courage to ever say anything or do anything.”

Harry still seems a bit closed off. His face, usually as expressive as possible, has gradually shuttered down a bit. Zayn can’t understand why, thinks maybe Harry just doesn’t realize how appreciative Zayn is.

“Thank you, babe,” Zayn says. “Honestly, thank you. If it wasn’t for you, I—I’d never be with my Liam.”

The words are so sappy and romantic and schmoopy that Zayn half expects Harry to slap him around the head or groan in disgust. Instead, Harry just nods, his breath a little shallow as he shakily inhales.

“Of course,” Harry says finally. “Nothing to it.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Zayn asks. He’s starting to feel like there’s something that he’s missing here. They obviously won’t be able to take Harry out tonight, for whatever reason that Harry doesn’t want to say. It cuts down Zayn’s excitement considerably. “Maybe you are sick after all?”

Harry shakes his head. “Nah. Nah, I’m fine. Just a little tired, need to finish sleeping off the hangover. You get going. Get, um… get to your Liam, yeah?”

Zayn gives Harry a concerned look and opens his mouth to press the point. Before he can, Harry has given him one more quick hug and shooed him out, closing the door in his face.

* * *

 

The next morning, Zayn and Liam are only a little late.

“Listen, loverboys,” Louis says as soon as they’ve walked through the door. “This better not become a thing where you roll in here at half past and think you can get away with it just because you’re holding hands and being cutesy.”

Liam blushes slightly but squeezes Zayn’s hand in his own.

“We’re not that late anyway,” Zayn insists, and leads the way toward the set. “Has someone done Harry’s makeup yet?”

“Um,” Louis says in a careful tone. “You haven’t heard?”

Zayn drops Liam’s hand, not without a quick squeeze of his own, and turns on Louis, holding his hands out for the day’s reports. “Heard what?”   
  
“Harry quit,” Caroline says from behind him.

Zayn feels his brows furrow in confusion. He turns to face Caroline.

“No he didn’t,” he says.

“As of last night he resigned from his job here and started working for _The Late Late Show_.” Caroline is busy texting away, a bit frantically, on her phone, though she glances up to check on Zayn’s reaction. He’s stunned.

“But we already talked about this,” Liam insists. His eyes are wide with confusion and hurt. “We talked to him just the other night about it, he said he had no intention of—”

“Well, I guess he changed his mind,” Caroline says. “Listen, this is not ideal but we have a show to run. I’ve already gotten a temporary replacement for his segment to try out today. Depending on how he does, he might be our next Harry.”

With that, Caroline turns and heads back to her office, bringing her cell to her ear for a call in the process. Louis shrugs at Zayn and Liam, then puts his headset in and walks toward the control room.

Zayn turns to Liam and sees the same feelings reflected in his eyes that Zayn himself is going through. Concern, frustration, a growing sense of determination.

“We’ll get him back,” Zayn promises. In the meantime, Caroline is right. They have a show they have to put on.

* * *

 

Harry has just settled down with a nice glass of wine and his favorite self-pity brand of frozen pizza when someone begins loudly knocking on his door. He sighs.

“Harry?” Liam calls.

Harry shakes his head and plops down on the couch. At least he remembered to lock the door this time, having learned his lesson from Zayn barging in last night.

“Harry, we know that you’re in there,” Zayn says, sounding a bit more annoyed. Who the hell is he to be annoyed? Who asked him to come by all offended and hurt-sounding?

“Just open the door, Harry,” Liam says. “We just want to talk.”

Harry debates the merits of sneaking out the window, then considers that, since he lives here, there’s nothing to stop them from continuing to come by indefinitely. And that would be quite the disturbance to his wallowing-in-heartbreak plans.

Harry pushes himself up and off the couch, heading to the door in a strop. He unlocks it and tugs it open even as Zayn is still knocking at it, meaning that as soon as the door is open Zayn nearly topples inside and barrels into Harry. They’re just barely saved from the indignity of it by Liam grabbing the back of Zayn’s jacket and reeling him backwards, away from Harry and into Liam’s own broad chest. And really, Harry thinks, if that isn’t karma’s idea of a fucking metaphor or some shit, he doesn’t know what is.

“Haz,” Zayn says, looking a little confused, a touch hurt, but mostly annoyed. “What the hell is going on?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’d know if you told me why you felt the need to nearly bang my door down.”

Liam frowns, his face taking on that disappointed expression that somehow manages to work on Louis of all people, so really, how is Harry supposed to stand a chance against it? It’s unfair, is what it is. Liam’s eyes are big and warm and pleading. Harry forces himself to look away from them.

“You told us you weren’t going to quit!” Zayn says, his voice rising in agitation. “What the hell are you thinking? Were—were you lying?”

“No!” Harry insists. “I just changed my mind, okay?”

“Why would you change your mind?” Liam says, his voice soft.

Harry stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs uselessly. His eyes drop to the ground again, and he starts to think that maybe answering the door was a worse idea than sneaking out of the window after all.

Before he knows what’s happening, Zayn has shouldered his way past him and inside the apartment. Harry looks up sharply, opens his mouth to protest, but Zayn has already turned to face him from the middle of the living room, and Liam is already carefully stepping inside too.

“We’re talking about this properly,” Zayn says. “And now.”

It’s enough to give Harry a new surge of righteous anger. He closes the door shut and turns around, taking a few steps into the living room himself.

“I don’t _owe_ you anything, you do realize that, right?” he says. “I’m perfectly within my rights to change jobs if I want to! And a few months ago you would’ve been thrilled about it!”

“Well I’m not now!” Zayn shouts back.

“Well—”   
  
“Lads,” Liam says softly. “I think we all know what this is actually about.”

Harry and Zayn turn their heads simultaneously to look at Liam. He looks fond if a bit uncertain. Taking a step forward, closer to the both of them, he continues.

“We—this thing between the three of us has been… confusing. For everyone, I think.”

Harry feels his body freeze. He can’t believe Liam is actually talking about this out loud. He doesn’t know if he should be horrified or mortified, so he settles for somewhere in between.

“I don’t know what—” he begins, but Liam gently cuts him off.

“Yes, you do,” he says. “We—I mean, we _have_ been on a date together. The three of us. At a fancy restaurant and everything. And maybe at first Zayn and I thought it was just because we wanted to make sure you didn’t leave and because we were nervous about the date and needed some support, but. Well, that’s not really how it is, is it? What I’m trying to say is just… that I think we all need to acknowledge that we have feelings for each other. Now, whether—”

“What?” Harry says, his surprise and panic jolting him into speech.

Liam looks at him, his eyes so wide and so warm and so brown.

“I’ve seen how you look at Zayn and I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

Zayn takes a half step forward and opens his mouth as if to speak, but seems to think better of it. He pauses, glancing between Liam and Harry intently.

“And I…” Liam looks down at his feet as though he can’t bring himself to say the words while looking into Harry’s eyes. “I think I might be falling in love with the both of you.”

Harry refuses to let a silence fall over them following that statement.

“No, you aren’t,” he announces, and Zayn and Liam both look at him sharply, reproach visible in both of their faces. Which doesn’t make sense, because Zayn is supposed to side with Harry on this. “Liam, you’re in love with Zayn, not me. And Zayn doesn’t—”

“Zayn can speak for himself, thanks,” Zayn says. He’s crossed his arms and is wearing a stubborn expression that Harry hasn’t seen properly since they stopped fighting over everything at work.

“Well then—Tell _him_!” Harry says, gesturing helplessly in Liam’s direction.

“He’s right, though,” Zayn says. He’s looking at Harry with a perfectly serious expression. “About all of it.”

Harry is so frustrated with himself and with Zayn and with Liam and with this entire situation that he barely refrains from actually stomping a foot.

“This is ridiculous,” he says. “My quitting has nothing to do with your relationship and I have nothing to do with it either. Whatever it is that you’re… suggesting is just… completely impossible.”

“Of course it isn’t!” Liam protests, but Harry has had enough. He storms to the apartment door, throws it open, and glares at the two of them furiously.

“Get out,” he says. “I’m not kidding.”

“Harry,” Zayn says angrily. “You need to listen—”

“No, I don’t. And if you contact me again about the job or about anything else I’m filing a harassment suit.”

A long, tense silence follows Harry’s words. He doesn’t know if he’d actually do it or not. All he knows is that he needs Zayn and Liam to go away before he does something that will ruin their relationship.

“Harry,” Liam tries gently. “Please.”

Harry shakes his head. Liam, seeming to read something in his eyes, deflates. He takes one of Zayn’s hands in his own and begins walking toward the door.

“You can’t be serious!” Zayn says. “We need to—”

“Babe,” Liam says, turning and giving Zayn’s hand a visible squeeze at the same time. “He’s made his decision. We have to respect that.”

Slowly, quietly, they leave the apartment. Harry closes the door behind them firmly, locking it for good measure.

Then he tries to tell himself that he didn’t just make a mistake.

* * *

 

The next week is awful.

Harry’s replacement does well enough to take his spot on permanently, but he isn’t as well known and honestly, he isn’t as good as Harry was at charming audiences. Ratings begin to steadily decline, and Louis and Niall keep shooting these worried looks at Zayn and Liam.

Admittedly, the looks may not have as much to do with ratings as they have to do with them. Zayn feels completely miserable, and he can tell Liam does as well. Being together helps, and they begin going on more dates, arranging more time to hang out with their friends, spending more time cuddling together in bed just to distract themselves. And things are good, they are. But they’re just not as good as they would be with Harry.

On Sunday morning, Zayn is taking advantage of one of the few opportunities he gets to sleep in properly and has just rolled over in bed to drift back to sleep when there’s a loud knock at the door.

Zayn groans and waves his hand as though shooing whoever it is away. A few moments later, the knocking starts back up again.

“Leeyum,” Zayn mumbles into his pillow, and Liam grumbles a bit, but sits up and hangs his legs over the side of the bed.

The knocking begins to get really frantic, and Liam shouts, “All right, all right!”

He forces himself up and begins walking to the door even as Zayn shoves an extra pillow over his head to muffle the noise.

When Liam opens the door, it’s to the sight of a dejected Harry. Liam’s eyes widen in surprise and he suddenly wishes he wasn’t wearing boxers and an old t-shirt right now.

Harry’s hair is a mess, and he runs a hand through it in an effort to tame it that massively backfires. He himself is wearing tired-looking jeans, unfashionable sandals, and an old college sweatshirt. Before Liam can ask what he’s doing there, Harry sighs and begins talking.

“I feel like… I’ve kind of been an idiot,” he says. “In regards to, um…”

“Us?” Zayn asks, and Liam looks over his shoulder to see that he’s come out as well, his hair tousled and a pillow under one arm.

“Well,” Harry says. His eyes are tired and a little hopeless. “Yeah. Sort of. And I understand if you both have moved on, if you don’t really feel like you did before anymore. I’d get that. But… this week has been hell? I’ve been so fucking miserable. I—I miss you. I miss you both so much, and I feel like a fool because I’m the one that ran you off, I know that, but I. I guess I thought that maybe—”

Liam leans forward and presses a kiss to his mouth. Harry startles a little, his eyes widening with surprise, before he quickly begins kissing back. He feels warm and soft, and Liam can’t help but smile against him.

A moment later, they both pull back, Harry looking pleasantly dazed. Zayn reaches past Liam to grip Harry’s shirt and tug him inside. Liam pulls the door closed behind them even as Zayn plants his own sleepy but surprisingly firm kiss on Harry.

“You’re lucky we know that you’re late to everything,” Liam says.

Harry pulls away from Zayn, probably to indignantly protest, but before he can, Liam has wrapped his arms around his waist from the back and begun sucking a mark onto his neck.

After that, they’re all too distracted to talk anymore.


End file.
